Enigma
by dippingdots
Summary: "Danny Fenton was the boy who people thought had lost himself the most; the boy who talked to the little, benevolent ghosts; who smiled at those that wanted to learn more about the dead; and who could become this terrifying monster if anyone hurt his friends."


**Hey! Another old work from archive. I wanted to try out the trope of Danny being really weird and people noticing it; it's a little bit AU in terms of his abilities, and I guess you could see his personality as tweaked - he's just not as loud, but the snark is still there.**

 **I don't own Danny Phantom; all rights to the respective owners!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **DDDDDDDDDD**

Amity Park stood apart from the rest of the world in the sense that it didn't seem to be a part of it anymore. Adults no longer read fiction novels but bought ghost-hunting books. Guns were no longer used but everyone carried a wrist-ray. The kids didn't go out after dark but watched through the windows as ghosts prowled the streets. Students no longer did essays on Romeo and Juliet but wrote poems on the afterlife.

And Danny Fenton was the boy who people thought had lost himself the most; the boy who talked to the little, benevolent ghosts; who smiled at those that wanted to learn more about the dead; and who could become this terrifying monster if anyone hurt his friends.

If you were to go to Casper High, you'd notice how the students seemed to force themselves to be more interested in the living than the dead. Teenagers who had never thought of death before would stare at ghosts and wonder how they died. No one necessarily wished that fate upon themselves - the possibility of coming back as a malevolent being that finds something akin to joy in terrorizing their home town - but the fascination with the Ghost Zone and all things afterlife would seem morbid to foreigners.

The Fentons were known across America, be it as bumbling idiots or genius scientists. Even though they were some of the worst ghost hunters the government had ever seen, the weapons they'd invented were mass-produced and almost everyone owned at least a wrist-ray now.

Either way, Amity Park had attracted countless tourists who were eager to visit America's Most Haunted City. The number of skeptics dwindled, and merchandise was sold in the forms of the many ghosts that resided in that area: Ember McLain, Skulker, Technus, and, of course, Danny Phantom.

Some religious groups didn't think of the ghosts of Amity Park as _ghosts_. Most said they were demons who the Fentons had let escape through their portal. Riots broke out and protests were organized, many trying to get the Fentons arrested. But they were usually ignored, the mass population curious and excited about the new scientific breakthrough.

But back to those within Amity Park.

If you were to ask someone about ghosts, they'd immediately say, "Ask Danny Fenton." Not only was the boy the son of Maddie and Jack, he seemed to be in contact with them the most. Secretive but friendly, Danny was an enigma.

Sam Manson and Tucker Foley were the only ones who seemed to truly know him, but whenever his name was brought up in conversation, they steered it elsewhere. Eventually, everyone just learned to deal with it and leave the trio alone. If they wanted to be secretive, then so be it.

It was a well-known fact that Danny seemed to have a personal connection with the ghosts. Ever since the accident that started the Fenton portal, he had been detached, jumpy, and so out of place in the world of the living. Once it had gotten out that he had been inside the portal the day it started up, everyone wondered what exactly he had seen that made him that way.

The students would come into their school in the morning and notice a pale boy sitting on the dirty ground by the gates of the school, seemingly talking to the air. Blue eyes shining, he would laugh, cock his head, and make strange sounds that sounded sort of like... well, there wasn't a definitive sound. Some would say it sounded like dead leaves crunching on the ground. Others talked about the wind howling in the trees. There were a few that were silent for a few moments before mumbling that it sounded like the garbled last words of their dear ones.

And then, if they stayed long enough, the students would then see a second small figure sitting across from Danny. The shape would fade in and out of vision, but if you looked at it out of the corner of your eye, you'd see a little girl of about seven or eight in a pink gown talking animatedly, waving her hands around excitedly. Her blond hair would be floating up around her face as if in water.

At first, everyone came to him, curious, but one ice-filled look drove everyone away. Tucker and Sam arrived soon later, but just smiled softly at the boy, went over, and tapped him on the shoulder, saying it was time for class.

An enigma.

Despite being to school early each day like that to sit in the same spot as before and speak to the seemingly benevolent ghost girl, he was almost always late; oftentimes arriving covered in bruises and limping.

But no one said anything.

A student approached Danny at his locker, curiosity overcoming wariness. "Who is that girl you speak to every day?" he asked.

Danny turned to him, and the student flinched a bit, expecting those icy eyes. Then Danny smiled brightly, and he wondered when he'd become so wary of the boy. "Her name's Rachel. The spot there is her haunt, so she can't leave, but she gets lonely. So I talk to her."

"Ah." The student didn't question _how exactly_ he was able to talk to her.

Danny walked by him, throwing over his shoulder, "She liked to draw!"

Danny seemed the most alive when he was with his friends. Sam made sure he spoke with them, and Tucker made sure he smiled. Sarcasm and dry humor was often thrown around in their conversations. But when he was alone, Amity Park noticed the bags under his eyes, the way he favored his left side, and the way he let his hair fall into his eyes. His eyes looked broken and his smiles were sad. And they didn't know what was wrong.

By contrast, Danny Phantom acted more alive than dead. He was cracking jokes, zipping through the air, and laughing _all the damn time._

Then there was the time ghosts _followed_ Fenton into the school.

They were little more than ectoplasmic blobs, but Danny treated them like living, breathing human beings. The first time was when Tucker and Sam were both out sick, so he sat alone at lunch. The ghosts floated around his head, and he would talk to them about his day - no one knew that but him, of course - and _offer them food?_

"He's so weird," Dash muttered as he sat with his other friends, watching the boy through his sandwich.

Sam came back the next day, and after finding out about the ghosts, lectured Danny in Esperanto about the dangers of having them _inside the school._ Danny just frowned and said, "But they just wanted to talk, Sam. They weren't hurting anyone."

Tucker, on the other hand, was so excited that he ended up asking Danny to translate whatever they were saying so he could get in on the conversation, too.

In English class, Lancer noticed the blobs of ectoplasm floating around Danny first. He frowned and called, "Mr. Fenton, why are there ghosts floating around you?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Lancer," Danny said, winking, as he took his seat. "These are completely harmless." He patted one that nuzzled against his face.

Lancer shook his head. "Enigma," he muttered under his breath.

Students didn't focus on the lesson, instead choosing to stare at Danny as he smiled at the ghosts, who leaned in to whisper into his ear every once in a while. Lancer sighed and asked the boy to let them out.

"Can't," he replied, "they don't want to go."

"Tell them to go, Danny," Lancer said with a tired voice. "I can't have them in here if you and the others won't focus."

Danny's shoulders slumped. He looked so sad, Lancer almost took back what he had said. _Almost._

"But Tuck and Sam aren't here," he mumbled, just loud enough for Dash to overhear.

"What have _those_ freaks have anything to do with this?" the quarterback blurted out.

The ghosts seemed to glow a brighter green, shaking in the air. Danny curled his hands into fists, whirling around in his seat to face Dash. His eyes seemed to _glow._

"Never call my friends _freaks_ ," he snarled.

"Mr. Fenton," Lancer snapped. "Calm yourself. And Mr. Baxter - we don't talk about other students like that."

The tension between the two was high, with Dash stubbornly staring right back at those chilling eyes, and Danny not even _breathing_ as the ghosts whirled around his head.

Then Fenton looked away, took a deep breath, and stood up from his desk. "I'll try to get the ghosts to leave," he muttered, then made his way out the door.

Lancer sighed, peeking through the glass to watch Danny as he sent the ghosts away. The blobs of ecotplasm rubbed against him, refusing to go, even when Danny pushed them away. The teacher saw how pained the boy was, as if he was sending them to their deaths; and, with the amount of ghost hunters appearing, he very well could be.

Eventually, the ghosts floated away, hesitantly, but surely. Danny looked after them for a while before sighing and rubbing his eyes, then turning back and walking into the classroom. He took a seat, leg bouncing anxiously, looking down at his desk. Lancer continued teaching, droning on about the new novels and essays to do. Every so often he'd steal a glance at the fourteen-year-old in the room, who was tapping on the desk and biting his lip anxiously.

The teacher wasn't the only one noticing his behavior. Star leaned over to him to whisper, "What's wrong?" making sure that Dash didn't see her. She didn't hate Danny - he just wasn't part of her friend group and she thought he was kind of annoying - and if he was hurting, she needed to make sure he was okay.

Danny looked over at her, eyes flicking around the room nervously. "Nothing."

"You sure? You seem kind of... jumpy."

He fiddled with his hands, knee bouncing up and down. "I just get a little anxious without my friends here."

"The ghosts?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No, the folders on my desk."

Star humphed. "Just asking. No need for sarcasm." She looked up, checking if Lancer still had his back turned to the class as he wrote on the board. "But seriously, stop bouncing your leg like that."

He stopped. "Sorry..." About a moment later, his hands reached up and started combing back his raven-black hair. Star sighed.

The A-Lister leaned back and turned to Dash. "Danny can't focus without the ghosts there," she murmured.

Dash wrinkled his nose. "Weirdo."

"I'm worried, Dash," Star continued. "What if it's an actual problem? I mean, you see what he's like without Sam and Tucker around. They make sure he _functions_."

"Your point? He's just a loser."

Star groaned. "I don't know! Maybe he needs his friends there to keep him sane, or... or. I don't know."

Dash stared at the girl. He shook his head. " _Sane?_ Seriously, Star? Ignore it. I'm sure he's fine. Besides, since when do you care?"

Star closed her eyes. "Never mind."

Most of the lesson was spent in silence, with the usual crash outside followed by Danny's hand shooting up and asking to go to the bathroom; reappearing later on when the ghost fight was over, claiming to have gotten stuck under some debris from the fight. The students were well used to his odd behavior, and said nothing about it.

It was much later, about ten minutes before the bell would ring for their next period, that Danny gasped and stared outside the window. A few students followed suit, shrieking a bit at the little ghosts hovering by the window. One phased through, hesitantly starting towards Danny, who had the biggest grin on his face. His eyes were lit up, his shoulders straightened; he looked _alive._

The students looked to Lancer, but he just waited for all the ghosts to reach Danny. They nestled on his head and shoulders, whispering into his ear again. His leg stopped bouncing. Star looked at Dash. _Point proven._

"Five minutes until your next lesson, people," Lancer said loudly, bringing the attention back to the front. "Let's not waste time, or I'll have to give you more homework."

Sam and Tucker rejoined Danny by his locker and started petting the ghosts immediately, asking Danny to say they were thanking them. Star stared openly at the exchange, watching as Danny spoke a bit with the ghosts before they flew off, phasing through the ceiling of the building. The trio then walked off to their next lesson.

 _Enigma,_ Star thought.

The students of Casper High weren't the only ones concerned with Danny's tendencies; tourists had seen him talk to the ghosts, and heard about his behavior from others. Rumors of the "Fenton boy" flew around houses throughout America. Someone accused the Fentons of experimentation, which was quickly shot down by others who knew it wasn't true.

The government had been keeping tabs on the boy ever since the accident, knowing very well that the ectoplasm infused into the machine could've affected him somehow. Of course, no one actually connected the dots to see that he _was,_ in fact, Danny Phantom.

He was labeled an enigma.

"We should take him for testing," one representative said. "Just in case something happened."

"Don't be ridiculous!" another man snapped. "What could've _possibly_ happened that we don't know about?"

Danny's ghost friends had attracted more tourists to Amity Park, however, so no one really complained.

"Can you teach me to speak ghost?" a little girl had asked him once.

Danny laughed and knelt down. A strange noise came from the back of his throat. "That means _hello_."

The girl tried making the same noise, but just ended up coughing. "I don't think I can do that."

"That's okay, not a lot of people can," Danny said. "But most ghosts speak English, too, so you don't have to know ghost speak to talk to them."

The mother had dragged her daughter away, sending a fearful look toward Danny. He looked sad for about a second before standing up, dusting off his clothes, and walking away.

Yes, people were scared of him.

He'd be walking home from school and get pelted with crumpled-up pieces of paper. Inside, they'd say words like _Freak_ or _Ghost Bo_ y (the latter of which he seemed to find hilarious). If he wanted something at the library, everyone would direct him to the paranormal section. "That's where you belong, isn't it?" they'd sneer. And the ghosts! People seemed to find extra joy in shooting any ectoplasmic blob that seemed to hang out around Danny.

This angered him the most - you'd see him march up to the person who'd shot the ghost down, jab a finger in their face, and say with a burning anger, _"No."_ His eyes would seem to glow a radioactive green, only to flash back to normal, making you wonder if it was just a trick of the light. He'd stare them down until they looked away, mumbled a sorry, and all but ran in the other direction. Then he'd kneel down next to the bubbling ectoplasm on the ground - the burnt remains of a ghost - and _weep._

He'd cry for a few minutes, then stand up and walk away again, head hanging low.

 _An enigma,_ you'd think while simultaneously feeling sorry for the boy who looked as if he'd just lost a family member.

Danny didn't seem to have as much control over his ghost speak as others thought, though. At school, if he was called upon, there was a chance he'd accidentally answer in the strange language of the dead.

One time when it happened in biology class, Sam whacked him with her folder. "English, Danny."

"Sorry," he muttered as a few students snickered. The rest looked at him nervously, still not used to his abilities.

And the feats of strength! It seemed to fluctuate, coming and going at inconvenient times.

In PE class, they had to lift as much weight as possible - while he usually was able to lift about fifty pounds, that day he moved all the way up to ninety-five.

"Danny!" the teacher gasped. "Amazing!"

Danny didn't seem to think so, immediately letting go of the bar and getting off of the bench press. "That wasn't supposed to happen," he said quietly. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

"Uh... sure," the teacher said, but he was already gone.

Enigma.

It didn't make any sense.

 _This doesn't make any sense,_ everyone thought.

Why was he so closed off? Why were his emotions either non-existent or like a raging fire? Why did it seem like his friends kept him from shutting down completely? Why did he talk to ghosts? Why was he so strong? And why didn't he die in the accident?

"Why does he look so much like Danny Phantom?" wondered a doctor as he looked at a picture of the past patient.

But no one seemed to connect the dots, and thank Clockwork for that.

Danny Fenton was seen as an enigma, and nothing more.

 **DDDDDDDDDDD**

 **This isn't my favorite thing I've written, but it'll do.**


End file.
